


Winds of Destiny (Septiplier)

by collaborational



Series: Of Flying and Fighting [2]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collaborational/pseuds/collaborational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the accident at the lab, Mark and Jack find out that not everything is as it seems. Mark is separated from his best friend and finds himself fighting for his life in the most insane lab rat maze he's seen in his entire life. Can he even last without Jack beside him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you missed it, this is a continuation of "Have A Little Faith", which you can read HERE: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5410670/chapters/12500984

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's been keeping a very close eye on Mark.

“So, how’s our little test subject doing?”

They turned to the other, who was watching the camera screens. The one that the duo was focusing on depicted a man hard at work, fixing some kind of heating vat. A hat was pulled snugly over his head, hiding his hair. He kept stopping to adjust the white labcoat he was wearing. Said labcoat was stained blue in places and had holes eaten through the fabric.

“Tinkering away,” the second one replied. “As he should be.”

“And he has no idea?”

“That it was intentional?” The figure chuckled. “Of course not. He’s completely clueless.”

“Perfect.”

As the two watched, the man straightened to talk to a coworker. The men chattered aimlessly, but the newcomer noticed the man’s constant adjustment of his coat, and evidently inquired about it. The first man replied hastily, pushing up his slightly crooked glasses. He knelt to continue working on the vat. His coworker frowned, but shook his head and went on his way.

The first person chuckled. “I’d consider our test run of the _chatalaíoch_ a success.”

The second nodded in agreement. “Should we contain him now?”

“No, no. Give Fischbach a few days. I assume he’s at least told SOMEBODY by now.”

“Isn’t that bad?”

“Of course it isn’t. I’ve watched him work here for five months now. He wouldn’t blabber to anybody he wouldn’t trust.”

“So… what does that even mean?” There was a clear note of confusion.

“It means,” they said, leaning back in their chair, “that we have an incentive for his cooperation.”

“Well, who do you think it could be?”

“Pull up the records on Fischbach.”

The second person typed at the computer for a moment. The security feed cut out, replaced by long lists of files. They began to scroll through them.

...it was taking a while.

The other grew irritated. “Can’t you just use Control-F?”

“...o-oh,” they mumbled, flustered. “Of course, how silly of me…”

The search went much faster after that.

In no time at all, Fischbach’s profile was up on the screen. It had all sorts of information on it.

“Check ‘known relations’.”

There was silence for a moment as they went through the digital file, then…

“It says here he has a mother, a brother, and a stepmother. But none of them are in Los Angeles.”

“Anything else? A spouse? Children? Firends? Acquaintances?”

“Well, he’s staying at an apartment building downtown.”

“Do we have the mail address?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Alright, access the hotel’s database and punch that in.”

A few minutes passed as the second person worked to bring down the hotel’s rather weak firewall. Soon, the information of everyone currently staying at the hotel was posted.

“So… any residents near Fischbach’s general vicinity?”

“The floor seems to be packed with vacation guests, sir. Nobody is staying long-term.”

They were about ready to give up the search. The first person stood to leave, muttering, “Perhaps we can find some other incentive…”

“Hold it. Someone else in the hotel uses the same mailing address.”

“Hm?” They turned, cocking a curious eyebrow. The other person turned their screen to show the name.

A surprised smile spread across the first person’s face.

“Well well. What have we here?”

They took a few steps closer, as though to confirm the information.

“So… a roommate, eh? Heh heh.”

“...instructions?”

Their grin grew even wider.

“Get me all the information you can on this… Sean McLoughlin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEAR GOD I CAN'T STOP WRITING SOMEBODY HELP ME  
> THIS IS MY SECOND FIC IN LESS THAN TWENTY FOUR HOURS  
> INSPIRATION IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME  
> HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP


	2. Everchanging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark heads home after a day of work. Silliness with Jack ensues.

Mark knew even before he opened the door that Jack was playing video games.

“AAAH! JAYSUS FOCK- NNNNNGH! YOU CAN TAKE YER ROCKET AN’ RAM IT UP YER ASS, YA BITCH!”

He chuckled to himself as he unlocked the apartment door. “Hey Jack. Having a hard time with Rocket League?”

The younger man scowled at him. “Excuse me, I’m EXCELLENT at this game. Th’ other team keeps cheatin’!”

“I don’t think it’s possible to cheat at Rocket League,” Mark laughed, tossing his hat over to Jack. With surprisingly quick reflexes, the Irishman snatched it out of the air and placed it back on his own head.

“Next time, git yer own hat, ya ass. This one’s MINE,” he complained.

“I don’t have a hat!”

“Well, then just tell yer coworkers ya dyed yer hair! Is it that hard ta believe?”

“I’d get weird questions about it all day.”

“Oh, like they didn’t question ya about my hat?”

Mark decided not to grace that with a response. Several of his coworkers HAD approached him that day to ask about the hat. He’d managed to direct most of them away before anything had happened, but Jon in particular had noticed the way he kept adjusting his coat. 

Speaking of which, the lab still hadn’t offered him a replacement. It was like a badge of shame he had to wear. It screamed, ‘Hey look! This idiot got his sorry ass doused in experimental chemicals!’

Mark balled up the once-white coat in frustration and tossed across the room, where it landed next to Jack on the couch.

“Jaysus. They’re still makin’ ya wear that shit?”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone I can actually ask about it.” He flopped down next to his roommate. The couch gave slightly with his added weight, causing Jack to lose his balance. The Irishman fell against his shoulder.

“Ack! Ya bitch, yer gonna make me lose my concentration!” he groaned, giving Mark a shove. The older man laughed.

“What’s that, Jackaboy? Am I a distraction to you?”

“Oh, shut th’ fock up,” Jack grumbled, dropping his controller to stuff a pillow in Mark’s face.

“Hey, don’t fight dirty!” he cried mock-indignantly. Mark snatched another pillow from the couch and smacked Jack across the arm with it.

“Oho, is that a CHALLENGE?” his roommate roared. Abandoning Rocket League entirely, he leapt to his feet, swaying as the cushions squished under his feet. “Bring it on!”

“Have at thee, leprechaun!” Mark too got to his feet, and the two tussled back and forth, aggressively swinging pillows at each other.

The battle went on for about a minute before Jack landed an unlucky blow to Mark’s stomach. The man toppled backwards.

Everything was in slow motion. Jack’s eyes widened. Mark opened his mouth to yelp. Before he could even think, he unfurled his wings to try and regain balance. They snapped out the back of his shirt. He felt one of his wings crash painfully into something, and then he slammed back-first into the ground.

“Ohh, shit.” Jack stared wide-eyed at the lamp Mark had demolished. It had been knocked off the coffee table and was now in pieces on the ground. The table itself was also overturned, but seemed to be otherwise unharmed.

Mark groaned. “Shit. I’m sorry, Jack, it was a reflex…”

“I-it’s not yer fault. I wos th’ one that nailed ya.” He hopped off the couch and pulled Mark to his feet. “It’s only a lamp. It should be fine…”

Mark ducked his head sheepishly. “If I didn’t open my wings, that wouldn’t have happened.”

“Yeah, and you would’ve landed straight on top o’them instead!” Jack asserted. “I’d rather have a broken lamp than a broken you. We can’t exactly take ya to th’ doctor.”

“Okay…” He still felt immensely guilty.

Jack noted the sour mood his roommate was in. “Come on, Markimoo. We can buy another one. In the meantime, I picked up some cookies from the grocery store today!”

“Jack, you never cease to amaze me with that sweet tooth of yours.”

“Do ya want th’ damn cookies or not? Final offer. No changin’ yer mind if ya say no. Because then they’re MY cookies. And if ya try ta take MY cookies, yer gettin’ stabbed with a fork.”

“Sure,” Mark chuckled, and followed Jack into the kitchen. His open wings clipped the doorframe, and he winced.

“Hey, can, uh… Can you help me put these back?”

The younger man rolled his eyes in fake exasperation and reached for Mark’s wings. He shuddered slightly, a reaction that always came over him whenever Jack touched his feathers.

Jack raised an eyebrow and snickered. He began to run a finger across the wings. Mark jerked them away.

“Come on, don’t mess around! Are you going to help me or do I have to do this myself?”

“Jaysus Christ, no,” the Irishman said, suddenly serious. “Last time ya tried that, ya damn near yanked all yer feathers off. Hold still.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT STOP ME ALREADY I KEEP WRITING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
> Okay but I might actually be done for the day SORRY Y'ALL YOU'RE GONNA HAFTA WAIT FOR TOMORROW


	3. Satellite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes Mark out to the park for some practice.

Mark had his arms crossed. “Seriously, Jack, this is starting to get ridiculous. We've almost been caught TWICE now.”

“Almost,” Jack emphasized, “but we didn't.”

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too, Markimoo!”

From what Jack could see of his roommate, he'd turned a bright red. A grin split the Irishman's face, but he said nothing.

“Alright, let's get back ta th’ checklist.” Jack pulled out his phone and opened it to a word document he'd typed out the day after Mark showed him his wings. “We've already nailed steerin’.”

“I don't think nailed is the right word.”

“Well, ya certainly nailed all those trees.”

“Don't joke about that! I still have bruises from that!”

Jack let out a hearty laugh, and he could hear Mark chuckling too. After a moment, he continued.

“Th’ wind’s too high ta be practicin’ altitude or speed, so tanight we’re jus’ gonna be stayin’ down here.”

Mark tilted his head slightly. His hair swayed with him, draping itself a little over his eyes. Jack's stomach gave a small jolt at the sight.

Damn it, you sexy bastard. Stop distracting from the point, he thought irritably.

“What's that even supposed to mean?”

“It means tonight we start practice wiiith…”

“...wiiith???”

“Hovering in place!” Jack threw his arms up, like it was the best possible trick in the world.

Mark wasn't so impressed. “What's so special about that?”

“Ya might need ta take a good look at a situation from above but movin’ may block th’ scene!” he asserted confidently. “Or ya could be in a room with a bunch’f spikes everywhere.”

“I don't see how EITHER situation could EVER come into play, but sure.” Mark shrugged. “So how do we do it?”

Jack frowned. Flying was easier said than done, and he was no engineer. “Well,” he told his roommate, “I guess you get into th’ air and then try ta stay in one place.”

“Thanks. That really helps. Wow. It's all so clear now.”

“Fock you, Mark!”

“Oh really now? Can't it wait til we're home?”

It was Jack's turn to flush bright pink. Mark laughed.

“Alright, alright. I'll give it a try.”

“Care ta make a bet?”

“I always lose your bets! No! I'm already thirty bucks lighter because of you. I could have bought a new shirt or something with that.”

“Money is always best spent on cookies and cake.”

“I'd better not find a bunch of baked goods in the cabinets when I get home from work tomorrow, Jackaboy.”

“No promises, Markimoo.”

Mark grumbled good-naturedly. Then he extended his wings.

That was always what took Jack's breath away. It blurred the lines between fantasy and reality, and made both worlds so much… More tangible. Standing in front of him was nothing less than an angel. A really fucking hot angel, no less.

Jack frowned to himself. What the hell? Where did that last part come from?

Mark noticed his change in demeanor. “Everything alright, bro?”

The Irishman quickly nodded. “Yeah. Jus’… Thinkin’f wot ta do next once we git hoverin’ down.”

“Speaking of which, you should probably step back.”

Jack did, almost stumbling over a root but keeping his balance fairly well.

Mark stretched his wings out and flapped them. He'd gotten much better at height control since he'd first tried them out, and he only went about five feet into the air. It didn't stop Jack's heart from practically jumping out of its chest.

“Alright, jus’ try an’ stay in one spot, I guess!”

Mark nodded. This was a trial-and-error process that both were familiar with. The American would try something, then fail, then try something else, then fail, and it would go on for about half an hour until he did something right for a moment. Another half hour would be spent singling out that moment of non-failure and recreating it until Mark could do it almost flawlessly. This process had gotten him steering near-perfectly after three days. He could now slalom through the trees at breakneck speed without hitting anything at all.

Jack's thoughts were brought back to the present just as Mark ate shit. His face planted into the ground, and his body twisted unnaturally behind him, feet almost touching his head. The man then flopped down flat again, and Jack broke into laughter.

“Holy shit! Wot th’ fock did ya DO?!” he cackled.

“Broke my back from what it feels like.” Mark's voice was muffled by the slightly damp earth.

“Yah’ve had werse. Git up, ya sissy.”

His roommate let out a few colorful words of complaint before forcing himself back to his feet.

“See? Yer fine.” 

“Alright. I think I know what to do.” 

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Ya sure?”

“No.”

“Oh. How disappointin’.”

“Shut it, leprechaun.”

“Watch it, Uncle Sam!”

They both chuckled a bit before Mark outstretched his wings once more and tried again. Once he was in the air, he tried to flap them, did some sort of somersault, and landed on his ass.

“Oh SHIT- MY TAILBONE!”

He immediately jumped back to his feet as Jack collapsed, cackling. Mark danced around frantically.

"Oww ow ow OWW!” he yelped, throwing himself into the air again. Jack was almost crying with mirth now.

“I didn't know you could break yer arse, Mark! Ya must have real talent!”

“Shut up! This HURTS!”

He sat up, still laughing. Then he looked at Mark.

His roommate was rubbing his backside, complaining. He was in the air, quick wingstrokes keeping him in one spot.

“Well, I'll be focked.”

“What? What is it?”

He let out a laugh. “You gotta injure yer ass more often! Mark, yer hoverin’!”

Mark froze. Then he fell onto his side since he wasn't moving his wings.

“SON OF A FUCK!”

A fresh wave of laughter broke over Jack, and soon he was on the ground again. Mark joined in, and the two chuckled for a little while about nothing in particular.

Then it all went to shit.

There was a loud crashing noise from the foliage around them. Jack turned far too late, tried to reach for Mark's hand, tried to pull him up-

A pair of quick ‘thwip’s rang out, and something sank into Jack's neck. He shuddered from the pain, it was a sharp needle digging into him, but then the world spun. He was suddenly drowsy. He could feel Mark's grip go slack in his hand, and then Jack couldn't prop himself up anymore. He remembered the ground rushing towards him.

Everything was BLACK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY NOT SORRY MWAHAHAHA  
> Expect more updates coming today. I AM LITERALLY MAKING THIS UP AS I GO


	4. Injection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.

It was hard to wake up. Everything was foggy and dark, and Mark's head pounded. It was like someone had given a crazed monkey a set of bongos.

The first thing he registered was that this wasn't his bed, or his desk. He was on a cold steel floor. The lowered temperature helped to jerk him awake. 

Mark sat up, doing his best to think straight. The ground was cold. He was put here recently, or else it would be warmer due to being in contact with his body.

The rest of the area was walled in. Had he been dropped? Looking up, which was a feat in and of itself, revealed an opening in the ceiling about twenty feet in the air.

Psh. Morons. He could just fly out.

But that proved to be much more difficult than expected. To his dismay, the room wasn’t much wider than he was, which left no room for his wings to open.

Well, shit.

Mark tested the walls. They were smooth metal, barely any grip at all. He tested his shoes on them. The rubber sneaker soles slid off like they were coated in butter. Climbing out wasn’t an option either.

Unless he could figure out a way to fly without using his wings, he was stuck in here.

Mark pounded on the walls, satisfied to hear the echoing BOOMs that the metal released. The noise reverberated up the shaft.

“Hey!” he called. “Is someone there? Help me!”

Only silence greeted him. He was beginning to feel the effects of panic setting in. His heartbeat quickened, his breath was short. Now wasn’t the time. Stay calm, stay calm.

“HELLOOOOO!” he tried again. “SOMEONE! ANYONE! HEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!”

Still no answer.

Mark banged on the walls as hard as he could, shrieking loudly over the din.

“HELP ME! HEEEEELP! I’M TRAPPED!”

After a solid minute of screaming his throat out and beating his hands on the metal surfaces, Mark gave up. He sank down and brought his knees to his chest.

He was going to die down here.

\---

Mark’s head snapped up. Someone was speaking.

“Greetings, Fischbach.”

Someone was speaking to HIM. He craned his neck, looking up at the opening above him.

Far away, a dark shape was bent over the gap. It was too far to make out details.

“Hey! Y-you know my name! Let me out!”

“I’m sorry,” the person said, and there was a hint of amusement in their voice. “We can’t do that.”

“We!” Mark cried indignantly. “Who’s we?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“WHY THE FUCK WOULD I ASK IF I DIDN’T WANNA KNOW?!”

“I am going to have to ask you to remain calm. We need accurate readings from you once we start testing, and getting upset like this won’t help.”

A mixture of confusion and rage was boiling in his gut now. He sprang to his feet. “Tell me what the hell is going on! I’m not giving you readings or anything else! Let me GO!”

“You are in no position to argue, Fischbach. Either cooperate willingly or you will be strapped down and knocked unconscious once more, which can fudge results.”

“O-oh yeah? Well… well fuck you! I don’t want to!”

The person paused. Then they turned. “Professor, they’re proving to be acting difficult,” they called to someone unseen.

“Bring them up.”

“A-are you sure? What if he…”

“There’s a reason I had you look up that information on McLoughlin.”

Mark’s blood ran cold. He stiffened.

“What did you do.”

“What’s that, Fischbach?” the first person called down. “Speak up!”

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO JACK?!”

There was a very pregnant pause. Mark’s chest heaved, his hands clenched into fists.

“Jack?” the second one asked. “Didn’t we look up records on a Sean McLoughlin?”

“According to the records, Jack appears to be some sort of alias, professor. A nickname.”

“How does that even work?”

“Well, I believe Sean is the Irish name for-”

“You know what, I don’t care,” the second voice said harshly, cutting the other person off. “Bring Fischbach up.”

There was a rumble, then the floor moved under him. Mark struggled to keep his balance as a mechanical whirring filled the air. The opening moved closer.

Maybe if he was fast enough… Mark positioned himself carefully, wings aching to open. If he was quick, he might be able to blow these people off their feet.

The platform clicked to a halt, and he was blinded by light. Mark took a deep breath and-

His wings painfully collided with a hard surface.

“OW! SHIT!” he yelped. Mark forced his eyes open.

He was in a very clean, very white laboratory. He was surrounded by a glass box with dimensions similar to the shaft he was just in. If anything, there was even less room to move.

The person in front of him chuckled. He appeared to be of Asian descent, with short dark hair and a pristine labcoat. “Did you think we would really be that stupid?” he told Mark.

“Enough, Doctor Shiwu.” A blonde woman with icy blue eyes stepped out from behind the man. She smiled humorlessly when she saw Mark, like she was examining a mildly interesting bug before she stomped on it.

"Hello, Mr. Fischbach. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I’ve never had the pleasure,” Mark growled.

“My name is Professor Hund.” Her voice was as cold as her gaze. “This is my assistant, Doctor Shiwu. And of course… we know your name. No need to introduce yourself.”

“I didn’t want to anyways. What the fuck did you do to Jack?”

“Your friend is perfectly safe,” Hund chuckled. “And he’ll stay safe as long as you cooperate with us.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed.

“...what do you want from me?”

“It’s simple, really. We need to test the effects that our _chatalaíoch_ had on you. I must say, you are a wonderful specimen. You know, you’re the first person that’s actually been able to handle the stuff that has animal DNA in it.”

“Wh-what? That was on PURPOSE? You turned me INTO THIS?” Mark was furious. “What the FUCK! Do you have any clue what my life’s been like since you did this? It’s a huge secret I have to keep from EVERYONE! Because of you!”

“Everyone, you say?” she asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Even this Jack?”

“W-well, why the fuck do YOU care, anyways?!”

Shiwu cleared his throat. “Professor, if I may… the testing?”

Mark didn’t like the sound of that. “Testing? What testing?”

“Oh, all SORTS of testing. We’ll need to run a diagnostic, analyze blood samples… Good Lord, has your hair always been like that?”

“N-no,” he muttered, suddenly self-conscious. “Your cata-whatever did this!”

“Well, then that’s a side effect we’ll need to examine. Perhaps we can eradicate it in future specimens.”

“Look, lady. I’m not going to take your tests.”

“I know for a fact that that isn’t true. We’ve got little Jack, remember?”

Mark fell silent instantly.

“Now. Are you going to be a good little birdie?”

Despite the anger boiling inside him, Mark nodded stiffly.

A creepy smile spread across Professor Hund’s face.

“Then by all means, let’s make you sing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST KEEP ENDING ON CLIFFHANGERS DON'T I  
> I'M GONNA TORTURE THE SHIT OUT OF ALL OF YOU MWAHAHA


	5. Under The Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark earns himself a nickname.

“Is all this really necessary?” Mark whined.

All sorts of needles and wires were sticking into him. He’d been stripped down to his boxers, and he wasn’t very comfortable with how utterly exposed he felt.

Doctor Shiwu simply shot him a glare and typed something into the computer. 

Mark fought down a groan as one of the tubes stuck into his arm shook. Red liquid began to flow through it, getting sucked down the line and towards the panel connecting Mark to the wires that were attached to the electronic equipment.

“That’s like the third time now! Are you just gonna bleed me dry?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Shiwu muttered. “We need you alive and healthy if the results are going to be accurate.”

There was a faint hiss, and something else came down a different tube. Mark resisted the urge to gag as the needle in his leg shuddered.

“Do your best to stay calm. We’re almost finished with the diagnostic. Then we can put your physical capabilities to the test.”

“Physical-!” Mark cried. “No! You said you’d run some tests!”

“The physical examination IS a kind of test, Fischbach,” Professor Hund pointed out.

“Well, fuck you!” he told the scientists, sitting down hard in his little glass cage. He winced as every needle jabbed into him quivered.

“Careful,” Hund snarled. “We don’t want you injured.”

“Oh yeah, God forbid your perfect little test subject get injured!” he snapped back.

“You WILL cooperate, Fischbach. Remember, your friend’s life is on the line here.”

“Well, how do I know you have Jack? You could just be bluffing.”

Hund raised an eyebrow. “He’s sharp as a tack, this one. I expected you to be slower. Perhaps the _chatalaíoch_ affected you. Hmm, multiplied your brain capacity.”

“You think I’m an idiot?!” Mark snapped indignantly. “I don’t need some fucking markiplier- fuck, MULTIPLIER-”

He flushed an angry red as Professor Hund chuckled at him. “Oh, ‘Markiplier’? Hee hee, that rolls off the tongue rather nicely, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t be naughty, my little bird. You’ll stretch your wings soon enough. Shiwu, how are the tests coming?”

“I think we have all the samples and readings we need to complete a full diagnostic.”

“Excellent.” She smiled and tapped at the glass.

“Hear that, ‘Markiplier’? Looks like you’re getting some more room to move.”

Mark flipped her the double bird.

\---

“You never told me if you even had Jack or not.”

Hund gave him a ghost of a smile. “I’m surprised you remembered, Markiplier.”

“Stop calling me that, for God’s sake.”

“It’s much easier to say than Fischbach.”

“Why not call me by my actual fucking first name, huh?”

The scientist rolled her eyes, and Shiwu shoved him forward. Mark stumbled. A binder was wrapped tightly around his torso, trapping both his arms and his wings. He was also wearing some strange kind of block that encased the entirety of his hands and wrists. A dark blue jumpsuit covered his body.

“I’m not your friend, Markiplier. Being on a first-name basis with you would suggest that we are.”

“That’s stupid. You’re… you’re stupid.”

“On the contrary, my little bird. If I’m the stupid one, then why are you the one in the cage?”

He grumbled and continued to take steps forward. The two scientists were herding him down a hall that was as white and clean as the lab they’d been in. This was absolutely ridiculous.

“...h-hey, stop DISTRACTING me! Do you have Jack or NOT?!” he yelped, suddenly remembering.

“Are you really in any position to be questioning us?” Shiwu told him.

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but his breath hitched. He looked down again. “No,” he muttered under his breath.

“Speak up, Markiplier, we can’t hear you.”

“N-no,” he stuttered, a little louder.

“Then stop asking questions already.” The trio reached the end of the hall, and Hund stepped forward. She produced a keycard from her labcoat, and the scanner next to the heavy metal door beeped cheerfully. Mark watched her stick the card back into her pocket.

The door rumbled open, and the scientists shoved Mark inside. He looked around.

It appeared to be some sort of large chamber, made entirely of metal. It was huge. Like, the size of a football stadium. Where the hell had they found the room to keep this?

He turned to ask the two exactly this, but they were gone.

“Wh-what the…?”

Mark looked up. The scientists had apparently activated some sort of lift. They were now stepping off a raised panel into a room near the top of the chamber. The large window seemed to glare at him, and it showed a pristine white control room.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Here to watch the show?”

The intercom turned on with a faint crackle of static. “Well, of course. We need to see our little bird when he flies, Markiplier.”

“Quit CALLING me that!”

“Mmm… no.”

Mark looked at his bindings. “Hey! How am I going to get these off?!”

“Shiwu?”

“Oh yes. My mistake, professor.” 

The cube on his hands chirped and then opened up, dropping to the floor with a CLANG. Mark rubbed his aching wrists, and then peeled off the binder. The man opened and flexed his wings. God, that felt good.

“You really are a quite beautiful specimen. Look at those feathers. You’re in perfect condition. I’m actually a little surprised. Have you been using them?”

“Well, yeah. You actually mowed Jack and I down when we were in the middle of a practice session.”

“Oh? You’ve flown with them already? And you bring Jack? You must trust him a lot.”

“I’ve known him for an entire year. He’s my best friend, of course I trust him.”

“Interesting,” Hund noted. “Go ahead, then. Fly.”

Mark paused. “And… what if I don’t?”

“Once again, Markiplier, are you really in a position to be questioning us right now?”

He winced. Then, grudgingly, he stretched his wings out.

With a single controlled wingbeat, he shot into the air. He was light as a feather, fast as a bullet. Mark angled his wings and sped forward. He hadn’t flown in such an open space before. He’d always had to watch for trees in the park. This was so much different. 

He banked sharply as he approached the corner of the room, pulling up. Mark felt the urge to try something, and he angled his wings slightly. He arced upwards almost lazily, then drifted back down, flying straight once more.

Had he just completed a fucking loop? That was AWESOME!

“Impressive skills.”

Oh, right. These jackasses were watching.

“Okay, I can fly,” he called to them. “Are you happy yet? Can I go now?” 

“You can fly in open space with no wind resistance. That in itself is a rather impressive achievement…”

Mark was immediately assaulted with the shrill squeak of metal grating on metal. He clamped his hands over his ears. Thankfully, he was close to the floor, so when his altitude dropped and he skidded across the ground, he was for the most part unharmed.

When he looked up, the entire layout of the chamber had changed. Poles, walls, and rings were jutting out every which way. Panels slid open to reveal huge turbines set into the perimeter of the room.

“Let’s see how you can handle… more extreme conditions.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit it's gotten all Portal on us hasn't it whoops  
> Also... I am very proud of the little "nickname" I gave Mark. Hueh.  
> I really hope I'm writing the 'flight' parts okay haha


	6. Re-Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's being pushed to his limit.

A feather came loose as Mark frantically dipped under the swinging rod. The dizzying movement of the obstacle course was severely disorienting him. 

A blast of air on his right sent him flying. Mark careened left towards the half-wall that came rushing up to meet him. He twisted midair, kicked off from it, and went into an upwards spiral. Mark opened his wings to create drag just as another rod was flung in front of him. He beat his wings frantically, trying to stay hovering, but all he did was push himself up further. His head banged against the panel directly above him. 

“Having trouble staying in place, Fischbach?” 

At least they’d finally dropped the stupid name. Mark was exhausted. Every muscle in his body seemed to screech in protest. This was his eighth test flight in two days. They had to literally drag him out of the room after he’d collapsed from lack of energy the day before. 

He let himself drop, opening his wings again once he was close enough, and glided above the ground, eventually touching down. He ran for a few feet, then skidded to a halt. 

"Please. No more,” he panted. “I think I’m dying.” 

“Not until you can perfect that hover. Fischbach, you seem to have no trouble with anything else. You need to work on that.” 

“I’m not a Goddamned hummingbird! You can’t expect me to do that!” 

“I can and I do,” Hund told him coldly. “Try again.” 

Mark groaned in complaint. His legs shook, and his wings trembled. He was aching to the core. 

“Do you need us to provide a jumpstart again?” Shiwu asked into the mic. 

“N-no. Please, anything but that.” When he’d first been shoved back into the testing room that day, he’d refused to fly. The panel of metal he was standing on had shot up at an angle unexpectedly, catapulting Mark across the room. Only by instincts had he managed to prevent himself from going splat against the opposite wall. 

“Then try again. I’m warning you, Fischbach-” 

“If I don’t cooperate, Jack’s gonna get it. I know. I KNOW. For fuck’s sake.” 

Mark rolled his eyes and opened his sore wings. He flapped them, flying back into the air. Pain immediately shot through him. Desperately, he swept them up and down, trying to find an equilibrium. It wasn’t enough, and he started to lose altitude. 

“N-no, SHIT-!” 

His legs crumpled under him as he sank to the floor once more. Mark panted, completely out of breath. “Please… y-you have to give me a break.” 

“Perhaps a little more encouragement, huh?” 

He froze. What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

A loud buzz filled the air, and the engineer recognized the noise of moving electricity. He jumped as a tingling shot through him. Everything felt like it was vibrating at once. Mark let out an anguished cry. 

As suddenly as the electricity hit him, it was gone. He smelled burnt hair. Mark groaned. 

“Remember that pain, Fischbach. It’ll happen to you if you so much as touch any surface in here now.” 

His eyes shot open. “WHAT?!” 

The buzz started again, louder. Mark jumped to his feet and forced himself into the air. 

“Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!” he cried, frantically beating his wings. 

A mechanical whir filled the air. Mark looked around desperately. 

Panels were closing in on him. He was trapped. He whipped his head left and right. They were completely surrounding him, and they all buzzed with electricity. 

“Let’s see if you can avoid a nasty shock,” Hund called gleefully. 

“Professor, are you sure this is safe?” 

“He’ll survive. It’s not nearly a high enough voltage to stop his heart. Just a… discouragement of sorts.” 

That didn’t do much to quell Mark’s fears. He flapped his wings, looking for some sort of escape. The top of his head hit one of the panels. A painful ZOT sounded, and he dropped, catching himself before he could hit the floor again. 

It all hurt so much. Mark couldn’t stop tears from running down his face. “Please, stop! I can’t take this!” 

“If you can hover for ten seconds, I will let you go.” 

Ten seconds. That was as long as he had to last. Mark closed his eyes and scooped at the air beneath his wings. 

“One.” 

He could hear the electricity crackling around him. 

“Two.” 

He resisted the urge to flap harder. 

“Three.” 

Mark gasped for breath. 

“Four.” 

His heart beat in time with his wings. 

“Five.” 

His muscles screamed for mercy. 

“Six.” 

Mark’s wings faltered. 

“Seven.” 

He could feel himself falling. 

Mark slammed into the ground, jerking as the electricity coursed through him. The air itself burned. Breathing was impossible. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t move. 

“What a shame,” Hund muttered. 

The electricity died down. Mark took in a sharp breath. His ribs hurt. His wings throbbed. His head ached. Everything was spinning. 

“I suppose we’ll try again later… Fischbach?” 

The world swirled around him. Mark tried to say something. His tongue was too heavy. 

“Fischbach?” Her words echoed distantly. 

Mark shut his eyes, shuddering as unconsciousness claimed him. 

\--- 

He was falling. Glass swirled around him as the wind rushed past. Everything was a blur. 

He tried to scream, to cry out. Nothing was working. 

A shape was shooting towards him, reaching for him desperately. 

Their hands fumbled in the fall, frantically stretching towards each other. 

Finally, their fingers interlocked. He was pulled into a tight embrace. 

There was a loud FWAP, and then their trajectory changed. 

The two were slicing through the air. They were fine. They were flying. 

He looked up. He caught the sight of feathers, of arms wrapped around them, a splash of unnaturally colored hair. 

“Wha…?” he croaked. 

“I’ve got you.” 

\--- 

Mark awoke, rubbing his forehead. What the fuck was that dream? 

Professor Hund and Doctor Shiwu were waiting for him. Shiwu was glaring at his boss. 

“I told you we shouldn’t have done that. Give him a break. He’s a living thing.” 

“It was simply a test. He failed. We will have to wait a few days to try again,” Hund told her assistant. 

“How do you feel, Fischbach?” 

“Sore,” he managed to groan. His throat was dry, and his voice came out as a weak rasp. 

“Hmph.” She turned to Shiwu. “Make sure he gets rest. We’ll continue testing tomorrow.” 

The Asian nodded, and Hund departed. Mark was alone with the doctor. 

Shiwu glared at him. “Don’t try anything. You’re tied down.” 

Mark nodded weakly, recognizing the tightness across his torso, wrists, and legs. He must have been strapped to a table, like he was the last time he collapsed during the tests. 

He tried to look around. He was back in the laboratory. A curtain was next to the surface he was tied down to. Shiwu went across the room and sat down at the computer. Probably punching in the numbers from Mark’s epic failure. 

Mark heard a sound from behind the white curtain. It was a soft groan. 

Was someone else in here with him? 

He attempted to speak without alerting the doctor. “H-hey! Hey!” he hissed. 

“...uungh...wh… Is someone here…?” the person groaned. Their voice was too quiet to make out any distinguishing characteristics. 

“Do you know where the hell we are?” 

“N-no, I…” the voice said. “Wait. Are… are you…” 

There was a pause. 

“...am I what?” 

The silence continued. 

“Hello?” 

A soft snoring came from the other side of the curtain. 

“Oh, come on,” Mark muttered. “That just isn’t fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really bad at not ending on cliffhangers huh  
> WELL AT LEAST I POST FAST SO THERE'S THAT


	7. Audience of One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one final test Mark has to pass.

“One.” 

He trembled in the air. 

“Two.” 

Mark’s wings beat frantically. 

“Three.” 

He flapped too hard and hit the panel above him. A painful shock coursed through his body, forcing him to drop like a stone. 

“Too bad. Take a second and rest, Fischbach,” Shiwu called. 

Mark obliged, kneeling on the floor. He took deep gulps of air. 

“That’s enough,” Hund snapped impatiently. “Back up already.” 

He clambered to his feet, shooting a glare at the window above him. He jumped up, and let his wings carry him again. 

The panels pressed in almost immediately, making Mark feel claustrophobic. He could hear the buzzing of the electricity. 

“One.” 

He struggled to stay aloft. 

“Two.” 

Crackling noises surrounded him. 

“Three.” 

Hund’s voice cut sharply though the chamber. 

“Four.” 

His left wing cramped up all of a sudden. Mark swayed. 

“Five.” 

He slammed sideways into the metal, earning a jolt of electricity for his efforts. Mark hit the ground hard, panting. 

“Pathetic.” 

“I don’t think you’re ever actually going to set me free, are you?” 

“Of course not,” Hund chuckled, leaning into the mic. Mark twitched involuntarily at the words. “Why would we ever let go of a pretty little bird like you, Fischbach?” 

“Why… why am I even here, then?” he called, fearing he might know the answer already. “Why do you care about this?” 

“Well, we simply want to create more specimens like you.” 

He froze. A chill ran through his body as he realized the implications. “You’re going to…! You’re crazy.” 

“I prefer the term extremist.” 

“That’s basically the same fucking thing," Mark asserted, crossing his arms. "So why the hell should I play along? How do you know if I haven’t been fudging the results this whole time? That I haven’t been tricking you?” 

“If that’s the case,” Hund said, “you make an excellent actor. But if I find out you HAVE…” 

“Would you cut it with the ‘we’ll hurt Jack to keep you in line’ bullshit!” Mark exploded. “You’re bluffing! I know you are! This needs to fucking stop. I’m not doing anything for you anymore!” 

There was silence for a while. Mark stood tall, unblinking, staring straight at the window. 

“...Professor? Instructions?” 

“Hmm… Well, he does deserve the truth for being such a good little bird, doesn’t he?” 

He smirked slightly. So he’d called them on their bluff. 

There was movement behind the glass. Mark squinted. A third figure had entered the little room. How had they gotten in there? Was it another scientist? A supervisor? 

A loud BANG issued from the intercom, followed closely by a second, similar crash from the window high above. Sound delay, Mark decided. 

Then a new voice came from the speakers. 

“M… Mark? Izzat… Izzat you down there…?” 

His heart stopped. The voice was scratchy, like it hadn’t been used, and muffled like the user was pressed up against something. But there was no mistaking it. 

Mark refused to believe it. 

“Mark, d-don’t listen ta them… wotever they’re doin’ to ya, ya gotta fight it. Don’t worry about me! I’ll be fine!” 

He couldn’t deny it any longer. He was vaguely aware of his wings lifting. He shot into the air. 

Mark slammed his hands into the window, making the glass shake. His wings beat hard, keeping him aloft. 

A face was pressed against the window, being held there by Doctor Shiwu. Messy green hair was hanging over bloodshot blue eyes. He looked tired as hell, and he was crying. Despite being squished up against the glass, he managed a grin. 

“H-hey, Mark,” Jack choked. “Nice ta see ya.” 

Mark leaned in closer. “Jack… Oh God, they really… Really did…” He was at a loss for words. A lump was in his throat. Hot tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes. 

“Mark, p-please don’t blame yerself. It’s my fault we went ta th’ park, it’s my fault we got caught…” 

“No. No no no, Jack, don’t say that. That isn’t true.” 

His roommate shut his eyes. “Mark, ya hafta git outta here. Fergit about me. Fly as fast as ya can. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” 

“That’s a fucking lie and we both know it. I can’t let them hurt you.” 

“Damn it Mark, ya don’t hafta act so fockin’ noble all the time!” Jack pressed one hand against the glass. “I can’t let ‘em hert YOU either.” 

“Jack, I’m getting you out of here.” 

“No. I’ll slow ya down.” 

“I am not leaving without you.” 

“Ya have to!” 

All of a sudden, Jack was yanked away from the window. Mark pressed harder against it, in a panic. 

“NO! Give him fucking back, you BASTARDS! GIVE HIM BACK!” 

He could see Jack getting shoved into a corner. Hund leaned forward and grabbed the mic. 

“I knew you could do it, Fischbach.” 

“Wh… wha…?” he spluttered. 

“You’ve been hovering for almost a minute now,” she told him, smiling coldly. “Which means you’ve passed the last test.” 

All of a sudden, Mark felt heavy. “What… I…?” He suddenly remembered how high up he was. He’d stayed right in front of the glass the whole time, talking to Jack. "You… you tricked me." 

“I wouldn't say trick. It was simply… the proper motivation,” the professor chuckled. “And now that we know you’re capable… we can end testing.” 

“Th-then… what’s that mean?” 

Doctor Shiwu leaned into the mic. “It means that you are no longer needed. We have the DNA. We have the results. We have all the variables filled in. 

“We no longer require you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHIT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN GUYS  
> please tell me if i'm doing this okay aaaAAAAAAA


	8. Help Is On The Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's fate lies in the hands of Mark.

A buzz filled the air. Jack watched in horror as Mark looked around. Everything he could see inside the chamber was dancing with sparks. 

He could hear an insane giggle issue from the control panel. The crazy professor was… LAUGHING. The noise chilled him to the bone. 

“So, Fischbach… how does roast chicken sound?” she cackled. 

“I… I take that as an insult,” Mark weakly managed. He swept around the room, looking for some sort of escape. “I’m no chicken. I’m… I’m a swan.” 

“Well then, consider this your swan song, Fischbach.” She and the Asian scientist began to work the panel in front of them. The room rumbled. Rods and walls sprang from nowhere. Panels moved to try and crush Mark. 

Jack could only stare in terrified awe as his roommate danced around them in a swirl of feathers. He wasn’t exactly graceful, but good God did he have reflexes. He dodged, ducked, dipped, dove, and dodged around everything the two sent his way. 

Despite his exhaustion, Jack forced himself to his feet. He had to do something. 

He heard the female growl in frustration. “Let’s see you dodge this!” She pulled a switch. 

Immediately, the panels on the walls began to close in on Mark. His head whipped from side to side. There was no escape. 

Jack’s eyes widened. He could no longer see his friend. The buzzing got louder as the man at the console twisted a knob, evidently increasing the voltage coursing through the metal. 

“No!” he yelped. It was a stupid idea. He knew it. But he did it anyways. 

Jack rushed forward and tackled the man, throwing him out of his chair and onto the panel. There was a sickening CRUNCH as the control panel gave. Then a deafening ZZZRT. 

Then all the power went out. The panels dropped. Mark stared in surprise at the observation room. He was hovering just fine. Jack gave him a grin and two thumbs up. 

Then something grabbed him by his hoodie. That woman had gotten ahold of him when he wasn’t paying attention. The Irishman yelped as he was painfully dragged to her side. 

“Your choice, Fischbach!” she called. The intercom was now out, so she had to raise her voice in order to be heard through the glass. Her free hand plunged into a pocket in her coat. 

“Either surrender, or McLoughlin eats lead.” 

Jack’s stomach bottomed out. Holy fucking shit. She had a gun. 

Mark’s eyes flicked from the woman to him. 

“Don’t do it, Mark!” he yelled. “Git outta here! Now’s yer chance-aarck!” 

The scientist shook him roughly. “Shut your trap, leprechaun,” she hissed. “Make your decision! Now, Fischbach!” 

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead. Shoot him.” 

Jack almost couldn’t believe his ears. His eyes widened. 

The woman let out a faint chuckle. “You’d rather see your friend die?” 

“I know for a fact that you’ve got nothing in that pocket but an ID card and a pen,” he continued. “So, please, go ahead. I’d like to see you even lay a scratch on Jack using just that.” 

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re going to bargain that I didn’t pocket a gun today?” The hand stowed away twitched. Jack twitched along with it. 

“I’d bet my life on it.” 

The silence that followed lasted an eternity. 

Then Jack stomped on her foot. 

She let out a gasp, freeing her other hand from her pocket. It was turned inside out, and a plastic rectangle and a pen were flung into Jack’s face. They slid down the open neck of his sweatshirt. 

"See? Knew it,” Mark called smugly. 

The woman gripped Jack’s shoulders, nails digging through the fabric into his skin. He turned pale. “Mark, is now really th’ time ta be showin’ up a mad scientist?” 

“I’m going to kill BOTH OF YOU,” she hissed. Jack jerked away, and the two began to tussle for dominance. He caught a glimpse of Mark watching worriedly from the chamber. 

Then her grip tightened. Her weight shifted. Jack knew immediately something was wrong. 

She thrust her hip into the throw. He was airborne. 

Jack squeezed his eyes shut as he was defenestrated. 

He was falling. Glass swirled around him as the wind rushed past. Everything was a blur. 

He tried to scream, to cry out. Nothing was working. 

A shape was shooting towards him, reaching for him desperately. 

Their hands fumbled in the fall, frantically stretching towards each other. 

Finally, their fingers interlocked. He was pulled into a tight embrace. 

There was a loud FWAP, and then their trajectory changed. 

The two were slicing through the air. They were fine. They were flying. 

He looked up. He caught the sight of feathers, of arms wrapped around them, a splash of unnaturally colored hair. 

“Wha…?” he croaked. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Mark gave him a warm smile. Jack buried his face into his friend’s chest. 

“I fockin’ hate heights,” he mumbled. 

He caught the sound of the woman shrieking angrily. Their path of flight changed once again. Jack could feel his heart rising into his throat, and his grip on Mark tightened. 

They stopped, for the most part. There was a gentle rocking motion. He looked. They were once again level with the observation deck. 

The scientist’s face was twisted with rage. “That shouldn’t be possible!” she hissed. “Your wings, your framework. You’re not strong enough to be carrying anything that heavy! It doesn’t make any sense! You’d need beyond possible musculature!” 

“Well, lately my life seems to have been full of impossibilities,” Mark told her. “What’s one miracle, more or less, huh?” 

“No. No, the calculations must have been wrong. This can’t be right,” she whispered. The woman looked terrified now. 

Mark moved closer. He swept in through the window, setting Jack down on the sill. He was grateful to be touching the ground again. The Irishman slid down the busted control panel and propped himself up against the wall. 

His roommate landed, advancing on the woman. She was backing into a corner, frantically looking back and forth for an escape. 

“Shiwu… He must have done something wrong. No. No. Stop it, this isn’t happening. How could this be happening?” 

A grin split Mark’s face. “It’s simple. You overlooked one variable.” 

Her blue eyes locked with his brown ones. 

“And… what might that be?” she said. She seemed equally horrified and excited to get the answer. 

Mark cracked his knuckles. 

“The Markiplier.” 

And then he socked her in the jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT WAS CHEESY AS FUCK I AM SO SORRY


	9. Like The Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Mark have an escape plan.

Mark nodded at their handiwork. Shiwu was embedded in the control panel, twitching occasionally, and Hund was out cold in the corner. 

“Did you get her keycard?” he asked Jack. His friend shook his sweatshirt. A pen came bouncing out, followed by a small card. 

“Perfect!” He scooped up the little plastic rectangle, then offered his hand to Jack. 

The Irishman took it. Mark pulled him in, earning a surprised squeak from Jack, and then he dove out the window. 

He drifted to the floor easily, his wings effortlessly supporting both men. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he released the smaller man, who sat down hard on the ground. 

“You okay?” 

“Th…” 

Mark leaned in. “Yeah?” 

“Th… Th’ f…” 

“What is it, man?” 

“Th’ fock is a MARKIPLIER?” 

The American let out a surprised burst of laughter. “Oh my God! You… you had to be there,” he explained quickly. "Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

Jack nodded. “Let’s.” 

Mark led him over to the chamber entry point and held up the keycard to the scanner. It chirped, and the metal doors clanked open. 

The hallway stretched down for a long ways before the laboratory. Mark was sure he’d seen an elevator during the times he’d been ushered down it. 

“So, what happened to you, Jackaboy?” 

Jack shook his head as they walked down the hall. “Man, it’s really jus’ a blur. I remember gettin’ shot with a dart. Then it’s all foggy. Kept seein’ snatches o’shit, but couldn’t really focus on it. I think I remember someone talkin’ ta me at some point. It wos hard ta respond, and I went back under after a moment.” 

“Holy shit, that was you behind the curtain the whole time?” Mark asked him. 

“Er… Guess so!” 

"Well, I'm glad you're alright! Jesus, if I hadn't caught you..." 

"I had complete faith in ya, Mark. Ye were born fer flyin' now, I could see it with all that shit ya managed ta pull off earlier! Th' Winds of Destiny are carryin' ya, I can tell! Ya can do no wrong as long as yer bein' held aloft by 'em!" 

"Oh my God, Jack." 

"Hahaha!" 

“Hold on.” They’d reached the elevator. Mark used the keycard again, and the doors rattled for a while. They stared at it for a good thirty seconds before the lift opened. 

“It looks like one yeh’d find in a workplace or somethin’,” Jack noted, stepping inside. Mark shrugged and followed him into the elevator. 

The doors slid shut with a little ding. There was a distant hum as it started chugging upwards. 

"Wonder where the hell this place even is." 

"Or where they got th' materials ta even DO this shit." 

"I guess it's a mystery for another day." 

"Yeh. Right now, the mystery we need ta solve is how we're going ta get home." 

"Oh geez. Are we even in LA anymore?" 

"No idea… this is bad." 

Mark took a look at Jack. “Wow, you look like shit. You’re all bruised up. And there’s glass on you.” 

“I don’t think anythin’ cut me,” he said, looking himself over. “You’re not much better. You’re all sweaty, and yer covered in all these scratches and burns. Jaysus, it’s like ya been ta hell an’ back.” 

“Judging from the length of this elevator ride, I think we have.” It had been moving for more than a minute now. They both chuckled. 

It finally dinged again, and the doors slid open. They moved to step out. 

Two tall men were standing in front of the elevator. One was stocky and wore glasses, the other one had a scraggly brown beard and a rather lanky frame. They’d been holding some sort of conversation, but it had died the moment they spotted Jack and Mark. 

The two glanced at each other desperately. Finally, Mark gave them a weak smile. 

“...we can explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short final chapter. But the series is far from over! Stay tuned for more "Of Flying and Fighting"! Boy, we've only just begun.
> 
> Fun Fact: The titles of all the chapters share names with songs by Rise Against. It is ALSO a good band. Please listen to them too. Or don't. It's up to you.


End file.
